


splash

by bukkunmoonsin (bukkunkun)



Series: The X-Men AU No One Asked For [14]
Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Fluff and Humor, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, MLQ Being An Asshole, Political Campaigns, Sassy, Waterbending & Waterbenders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:50:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5636251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunmoonsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sergio Osmeña, you, very literally, are the brightest damper in my life.”</p><p>Literally a pun, an insult and a form of endearment all in one sentence. Much like a man of the name Manuel L. Quezon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	splash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrejaPatata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrejaPatata/gifts).



> ([xmen](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/131347201918/mapalad-au-im-trying-to-explain-myself-1) [au](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/131402795703/mapalad-au-im-trying-to-explain-myself-2) [explanations](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/131407010113/mapalad-au-im-trying-to-explain-myself-3) [here](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/131417709543/mapalad-au-im-trying-to-explain-myself-44) [po](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/131687538733/mapalad-au-im-trying-to-explain-myself-54) [lol](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/134196041823/mapalad-au-im-trying-to-explain-myself-64))  
> DAHIL SA MGA PEOPLE NA NAMBUBULLY SA AKIN SA TWITTER MAHAL KO KAYONG LAHAT ANG DAMI KO RAW NA UTANG NA FLUFF. O AYAN. TAKE IT. this is mostly for u [@crejapasta](http://tmblr.co/mk2Iq1JjCPp673ZVhTv84OQ), regalo ni ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).
> 
> PARA KAY JOSE SA TWITTER, MAHAL KA NI ATE. PAGPALAIN KA NAWA. SANA MAUNAWAAN MO ANG KAHULUGAN NG PAG-IBIG PARA SA IYO.
> 
> **warnings for landi and fluff. also cute-ass quezmena because you’re worth (give it to me i’m worth it tettenenetet)**  
> [tumblr version here](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/136606099528/splash).

“Sergio Osmeña, you, very literally, are the brightest damper in my life.”

“Charmed, I’m assured.”

The infamous Golden Boy grinned back at him, pushing down the book he was reading to replace the droll of Tolstoy’s _War and Peace_ in tiny Times New Roman in slightly-smudged ink from the press. It was hard not to mirror the way Quezon beamed at him over his book, and soon, there was the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at Osmeña’s lips.

“I’ve missed you.” Quezon’s voice was warm, and he plucked the book right out of Osmeña’s hands to peer at with squinted peeved-out eyes. “You’re still the bookworm I know, I see. _Jesus_.”

“And you—” Osmeña took his book back, dog-eared it (and tried not to laugh at how offended Quezon looked) and put it aside. “Are still as arrogant as ever.”

The two of them shared a moment’s silence, twin smiles spreading before Osmeña shook his head, and stood up right in time as Quezon spread his arms for a hug. The two hugged each other warmly for a moment, laughing, and when they pulled apart, the older man gripped his arms firmly.

“So.” Osmeña chuckled, “What did you come dragging me here in the first place, Nonong?”

The nickname rolled off his tongue so easily, and like magic, the senator in front of him reverted back to that insufferably affectionate law school student in a blink of an eye. Osmeña missed those days, when he was just Serging and Quezon was just Nonong, and there were no Americans to muck their world all up like this.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.”

The smirk was there, and Osmeña knew the best response was to trust him absolutely completely, but damned if he wasn’t going to make Quezon fight for it first.

“There you go again,” he chuckled, and Quezon’s smile widened. He already knew Osmeña was on board with him.

“I want you to run with me.”

Oh, well. That was new.

The hydrokinetic paused to blink at him, but Quezon was smiling that same stupid smile from then, back in law school, until now.

It was the smile that told him “trust me,” and it was the one Osmeña would trust without a second thought, without the weight of any doubts.

He was probably going to regret this, but he was also going to love every single moment of this.

“Run with you where?”

He wasn’t even going to bother asking why.

Quezon grinned.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

Osmeña’s laugh felt like it’d been punched out of his chest, but the swelling of his heart was something of a completely different issue.

“Oh, why the hell not.” He replied. “Take my hand and lead me there. Run.”

 _You clever, clever boy_.

* * *

“When you said run, Nonong, I honestly thought you meant you were going to kidnap me and fly me off to another galaxy or something.”

Quezon laughed, and patted his cheek. “Maybe in the next life.”

“You made it sound so romantic too. _Run with me_. Run _for presidency_ with me. God, why do I trust you?”

The older man laughed discreetly, hand tight over his mouth, and the _Mapalad_ wanted to smack him upside the head.

Well, time to bring back old habits, Osmeña reasoned.

When the man leaned in to lean against him, he flicked his wrist, and the water in his goblet flew into his face. The splash was tiny, barely audible to anyone else but them, but Quezon’s indignant gasp _was_ , catching the attention of all the people in the press conference. Across them Aguinaldo stopped talking mid-sentence of a response a reporter just asked him, mouth still hanging open in mild surprise.

“Sorry,” Quezon drawled, and under the table, he pinched Osmeña, who was shaking with laughter. “Hyper-healing doesn’t quite cover erratic-hydrokinesis-partner-bloopers.” He grinned, charming and glib-tongued as always, and the reporters laughed.

Oh, Quezon, ever the crowd charmer.

That merited another glass of water to Quezon’s face, this time—born out of childish immaturity and spite rather than anything else—out of Aguinaldo’s glass of water.

The sudden wall of metal between the three of them was hilarious, in hindsight, and while Aguinaldo’s mug of water was now on the floor, reporters laughing brightly at something Quezon said again, Osmeña wasn’t going down without a fight.

Or a splash.

“Ay, _put_ —”

“And that’s enough from you, Golden Boy.” He simply said. “I think this press con’s over and done with.”

Quezon _gaped_ at him, and Osmeña simply smiled at him coolly.

“Sonuvabi—”

 _Splash_. And Aguinaldo’s running mate was now missing water in his glass as well. “Behave.”

“I’m not a cat.” Quezon pouted, petulant, but then he grinned, and slung his arm around Osmeña’s shoulders. “But. I miss you being like this.” He warmly said, and his hand was hot when he patted Osmeña’s shoulder.

There was a moment, albeit a brief one, where they were both Nonong and Serging again, alone together and studying, and then the click and flash of a camera shook them out of their reverie. Quezon grinned, and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here.” He said, and Osmeña didn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

“You’ve had five shots now, Nonong, you need to stop.”

“You’re not my wife.”

Osmeña scoffed. “I might as well be.”

Quezon stopped, halfway through trying to get the whiskey Osmeña was controlling to end up in his glass to look at him.

“… Are you?” he asked quietly, and Osmeña, unaware of Quezon’s sudden stop in favour of concentrating on the whiskey he was currently making do infinity-loops above Quezon’s head, shrugged.

“I’m with you day and night. Putting up with your shenanigans with sprays of water every day during this campaign, I think I merit your hand in marriage.”

“So you’re married to me, is that it?”

“I think I’ve made that clear enou—”

Then there were suddenly lips on his. He tasted like tobacco, like the whiskey he’d been drinking. The _bagnet_ he’d had brought over as a terrible idea of a bad joke. He tasted like the afternoon sky, orange fading to passionate red, to royal purple. He was spice and sweetness, nicotine and tar, and cheese and _leche flan_ dinner dessert.

He was _so damn strange_ , goddamnit.

He loved it.

They parted, and there was a stain on the floor, made by the whiskey, in a figure eight, and when they’d parted, Quezon stole the shotglass of whiskey from Osmeña’s hand, grinning as he downed it.

“What was…”

“Thanks, babe.” The man winked at him, and the _Mapalad_ flushed deeply.

“No—wait, that was—”

“I’ve known you’ve had a crush on me for the longest time.” Quezon replied quickly. “Since law school, I’m guessing—” _fuck,_ he was good at this guessing game, “And, it’s a miracle you haven’t noticed mine for ages.”

“Wait—for ages?”

“Keep up, Serging,” Quezon—no, _Nonong_ —winked at him. “I’m in love with you. That’s why I asked you to run with me.”

This man’s logic came in leaps and bounds, good God.

Osmeña laughed, shaking his head, and leant against him.

“You _damn_ fool.” He sighed.

“ _Your_ damn fool.”

“When this is all over, you’re owning up that you’re not—”

“Yeah, I know.” Quezon nodded, voice now quiet. “When we win—”

“ _If_ we win,”

“ _When_ we win. I’ll say it as the first presidential proclamation. I’m going to get rid of that law.”

Osmeña smiled gently at that.

“I believe in you.” He replied softly. “You’ll be the best president there is.”

Quezon looked at him, and chuckled.

“And you’ll be my best vice.”

“Vice president, or vice without virtue?”

Quezon smirked. “Can I have both?”

Osmeña’s answer was a splash of water to his face, and Quezon simply laughed.

“Give me a proper answer!” he demanded cheekily.

So Osmeña indulged him with a brief kiss.

And then another splash to the face.


End file.
